


The Shirt of Doom

by destieldrabblesdaily



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destieldrabblesdaily/pseuds/destieldrabblesdaily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: 'Why does no one tell me if we have people over, I just walked downstairs wearing a "say hey if you’re gay” T-shirt and batman boxers.' In which Dean meets the hot new guy next door for the first time, and deeply regrets going downstairs without properly dressing himself first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shirt of Doom

Dean shuffled down the stairs, yawning and running a hand through the hopeless mess that was his hair. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and there was a weird ache in his back, making him feel like he was  _seventy_  instead of seventeen. That had been one hell of a party at Benny’s last night; he’d gotten home around four in the morning, so it was not at all surprising that he’d slept until noon.

The only reason he hadn’t stayed in bed even longer, was his rumbling stomach. He skipped down the hall, then walked into the spacious kitchen on autopilot, heading straight for the fridge. He realized far too late that he wasn’t alone.

“Dean, honey, you’re awake!” His mother greeted him warmly.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, fingers absently playing with a half empty mug of coffee as she smiled up at Dean. The problem here? She had  _company_. Dean froze on the spot.

Sitting across from Mary was a woman with dark ginger hair tied back into a neat bun, lips pressed into a tight line of disapproval as she slowly looked Dean up and down. But that wasn’t even the worst part,  _hell no_. The worst part was the absolutely gorgeous boy sitting on the chair next to aforementioned woman. A boy with mesmerizing blue eyes who looked to be Dean’s age, and who was curiously assessing Dean.

Dean tried to keep in a rather hysterical yelp as he glanced down, coming to the conclusion that he was wearing nothing but a pair of batman boxers and a blue shirt with bright red letters on it that spelled  _‘say hey if you’re gay’._

“Meet our new neighbors, the Novaks.” Mary continued, waving her hand, gesturing that Dean should come closer. “They moved here yesterday, they came to say hi. This is Naomi, and the young man is her lovely son Castiel.”

Stumbling closer to the table, Dean swallowed to get rid of the lump in his throat. The boy, Castiel, was still staring at him, but that unreasonably handsome face didn’t give away much.  _Awkward, awkward, awkward_.

Naomi got up from her seat, curtly nodding at Dean as they shook hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dean.”

 _Right, the look on your face says the opposite, lady._ Dean could barely stop himself from rolling his eyes at her. He hadn’t noticed that Castiel had gotten up from his seat as well, next in line to shake Dean’s hand. Naomi stepped aside to give Castiel some room to pass, before sitting down again and starting another conversation with Mary.

Dean gulped, gaping at the boy, those blue eyes making him weak in the knees. Now that they were  _this_  close, Dean could finally detect the trace of a smile on Castiel’s face. Neither of them spoke, and Dean tried to calm his hammering heart. Castiel licked his lips, his eyes briefly darting down to Dean’s shirt, as if memorizing the words on it. Dean held his breath as he waited for Castiel to either say something or go back to his seat.

And then Castiel leaned closer, the fresh scent of soap and something fruity making Dean’s mouth water. Dean didn’t miss the tiny smirk playing around Castiel’s lips when the boy leaned in to whisper into his ear.

“ _Hey_.” Castiel breathed, his surprisingly deep voice thick with implications.

Castiel did a step back, that little smug smile never wavering.

“It- it means gay as in happy?” Dean muttered, feeling himself blush furiously, the sentence coming out as a question rather than a statement.

Looking down at the shirt again, Castiel reached out to lightly trace the word ‘gay’ with his index finger, making Dean shiver. “Of course it does, Dean.” He mocked, teasingly cocking an eyebrow at Dean before making his way back to his seat.

Dean stood there, slack jawed, yet grateful that their mothers were still chatting, not paying any attention to their sons.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna go.” Dean announced weakly, all but running out of the room without sparing Castiel another glance, his earlier need for food abruptly forgotten.

He groaned as he reached his room, silently cursing the shirt that he’d been wearing for the first time, today of all days. It had been a present from his friend Charlie, and he’d put that one on because it had been the first thing that he’d been able to find when getting home in the middle of the night. He was deeply regretting that decision. Not to mention the not-so-mature boxers. Naturally, he had looked like a complete idiot in front of his new hot neighbor. Just his luck. Dean pulled the shirt over his head, already looking for something else to wear. Right now, he absolutely  _hated_  that shirt.

~

The second time Dean slept in the dreaded shirt of terrible first impressions, was also the morning that Mary decided to send him outside to go and get the mail. Dean wanted to protest, then figured that a one-minute trip to the mailbox in his underwear would cost a lot less energy than getting into an argument with his mother. Besides, it was still early, not like many people in their right mind would be up at this hour.

Dean was already on his way back inside after collecting a handful of mail, when a calm voice made him stop in his tracks.

“Hello, Dean.”

On the other side of the fence, also carrying a small bundle of mail and smirking at Dean, was Castiel.  _Of-freaking-course._ One thing was crystal clear; if Castiel was going to be his neighbor, Dean would be forced to put a bell on the guy. Dean responded with a hasty “hey”, then sprinted back inside. Before he made his escape, he did note that Castiel had been wearing a decent pair of jeans and a nice blue button up shirt.

Dean idly wondered if maybe it was time for him to take a page from Castiel’s handbook, and to never again leave his room without properly dressing himself first.

~

The third time Dean slept in the ‘ _shirt of doom’_ , as he’d named it after two bad experiences, he was determined to shower and get dressed before even going downstairs.

It was a great plan. A solid plan. Waterproof. Dean smiled and hummed a tune as he crawled out of bed, then aimed for the window to open the curtains, wanting to let in some sun. He nearly choked on his own tongue when he found that at the same time, the curtains across from him were opened as well.

He’d never noticed before, but apparently the window across from Dean’s belonged to Castiel’s room, for bright blue eyes were staring back at him through the glass. Dean wanted to run, or hide, or both. Ironically, something about the way in which Castiel was cocking his head and smiling gently at him, was holding Dean captive. He stayed there, right in front of that window.

Castiel’s eyes were oh-so-obviously flickering down to Dean’s shirt again. Dean thought he was going to faint when Castiel mouthed a silent “hey” at him. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment, Dean wanted to turn away, but Castiel was holding up a hand to stop him.

Dean lifted an eyebrow at Castiel, and Castiel held up a single finger, a signal that said ‘give me a moment’. Then Castiel was gone, only to return two minutes later and pressing a sheet of paper against the glass.

_‘Go out for coffee and breakfast with me?’_

Dean was very proud of himself when he managed a shaky nod and a thumbs up.

~

The fourth time, it wasn’t Dean sleeping in the shirt that had started it all.

The early morning sun was teasing Dean, peeking through the half open curtains and waking him up. Dean sighed, opening one eye to take a look at the alarm clock on his nightstand. Eight am. The sun shouldn’t be allowed to shine  _this early_  on a Saturday morning.

He huffed, but his grumpy mood didn’t last long. A grin was creeping up his face as his eyes fell on the boy sleeping beside him, spread out on his back, a dark mess of hair fanned out against the spare pillow.

 _Damn_ , Cas was beautiful like this; quietly breathing in and out, cheeks flushed, lips parted. Dean would be the first to admit that he was probably the luckiest guy alive. The sheets were pooling around Cas’ waist, revealing the shirt that he was wearing. Dean grinned as he read the familiar words.

Not much later, Cas was stirring in his sleep, and then blue eyes blinked open, wordlessly greeting Dean.

Dean chuckled, one of his hands already finding Castiel’s face, his thumb caressing the curve of Cas’ full bottom lip.

“ _Hey_ …” Dean said, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows at Cas.

Castiel snorted at their little inside joke, slowly shaking his head. “Were you enjoying the view, Dean?”

“Yeah.” Dean answered truthfully. “Quite the sight… I like what I’m seeing.”

“Is that so?” Cas questioned, sounding a tad skeptical. “I recall you telling me that you  _hated_ this shirt?”

Dean briefly contemplated that as they traded cheeky smiles, their searching hands soon meeting on top of the sheets, fingers tangling.

“Nah, I don’t hate it.” Dean finally declared in a nonchalant tone, his free hand tugging at the light-blue cotton to pull Cas in for a good morning kiss. “It’s  just that it looks better on you,  _baby._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> For more Destiel stories, go to destieldrabblesdaily.tumblr.com


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